Shirt
"Hannah," Janette called, tossing a rolled up ball of fabric into her lap, "put on your shirt." Janette popped back toward the back of the house - probably Hannah's room - to get something else.
Hannah squinted, processing. She turned her head right and scanned slowly up and down her arm. She turned her head left. She scanned up and down her left arm, turning it as she looked. Then she looked at me, Gabriel, and Auntie 'O and waited for some assistance.
I clapped for no good reason. "You got it! Shirt!" I was impressed she had made the connection to what Janette had said, had processed it, and had thought through how she might execute the request.
Hannah continued to look at me. I interpretted. "Yeah, Dad. Got it. Shirt. Stop. Really. You're embarrassing me."
-- Dad
